Wake Up
by 27hope
Summary: (Season 3 Spoilers) When Oliver asked Felicity out on a date, he didn't think it would end up like this...


**A/N: I got a lot of feels after watching the Arrow Season 3 Sizzle Reel from Comic Con tonight. This just came out. I hope you enjoy it. **

**As always, I'd love to know what you think!**

* * *

This wasn't supposed to happen.

It had just been dinner. It had just been two of them smiling and laughing and talking and being together and it had been perfect…until everything went wrong.

And now she was lying unconscious, blood matting her blonde locks and streaking down the side of her face.

Oliver's chest tightened and twisted painfully in his chest, desperately trying to pull air into his lungs, but they wouldn't work.

All he could see was her prone form lying on the floor after the bomb had gone off and chaos erupted.

She was still...too still.

"Felicity…" his gasped, air rushing out of him as he planted his hands on the metal table and bowed his head, tears stinging the back of his eyes. "Please…"

His voice cracked, desperation filling him as Diggle worked nearby, quickly hooking her up to the machines and taking her vitals.

"I need you to wake up," he told her, bending down closer so that his lips brushed the shell of her ear, his forehead resting against hers. "You can't leave me...I need you…"

"Her pulse is strong, Oliver," Diggle told him gently. "The cut has stopped bleeding...she should wake up…"

A buzzing filled Oliver's head as he mutely nodded at his partner's words. Should...should was not good enough. She _had_ to wake up. She _had_ to be okay. There was no other choice.

Leaning back, he let his eyes trail from her blood-caked hair down her face to her slightly parted lips and the dress now coated in black ash and soot. He lifted one of his hands, trailing it down her arm as he'd done so many times before when he'd wanted to get her attention or was leading her somewhere. His fingers found hers and curled around them, holding on tight as he willed her to open her eyes - sparkling blue eyes that always brought a lightness to his being whenever she looked at him.

Her very presence made him smile - every day. Without her, he knew he wouldn't be where he was today - or even alive. She had saved his life in so many ways.

And that's why he needed her to wake up. He needed her to be okay because he didn't know how to live his life with Felicity Smoak in it.

Pushing up, he lifted his other hand and set it gently over her forehead, brushing a few strands of red-streaked locks away from her face.

Diggle had moved away to get something to clean her wound, and he took the moment of privacy to lean down towards her.

"I need you to come back to me. I love you, Felicity, please…" he breathed against her skin, his lips brushing her forehead and then her cheek before pressing softly against her lips.

_Please,_ his heart begged, wondering momentarily if this is how she'd felt the many times he'd laid lifeless on this table. Everything in him ached with desperation and fear and worry. The seems of his control were slipping away with each minute that passed.

When Diggle returned with the washcloth, he held it out to Oliver, giving him an understanding look. With shaking hands, he took the warm cloth and gently began removing the dried blood and dirt from her face.

He'd just removed the last few traces that he could when she moaned softly. His eyes darted to her face, breathing momentarily forgotten as he waited to see blue staring back at him.

"Oliver," she moaned softly as her eyes fluttered open, trying to focus.

She began to shift on the table and then groaned, her hand rising to her head.

He touched her shoulder gently, "Hey, don't move, okay...there was a bomb...you got hit in the head with debris."

The words stumbled out as he tried to regain his balance. He felt lightheaded, but he couldn't move, couldn't stop staring at her for fear she'd disappear before his eyes.

He could see the moment the memories rushed back to her. Blue eyes widened and her mouth formed a soft 'o'.

"I thought I'd dreamed that," she muttered, flush rising in her cheeks. "The date...it was real…"

A soft chuckle escaped her lips to hear the wonder in her voice. "Yeah, very real…"

"Would you believe me if I said that still wasn't my worst date?" she stated softly, lifting her eyes to his, a wry smile on her lips.

His shoulders sagged, head bowing so his face was right next to hers as he expelled a breath from deep in his chest.

When he felt her hand on the top of his head, he stilled and then let himself sink into her touch, nuzzling his face against the crook of her neck.

"I'm sorry," he whispered roughly, a moment later, his voice catching. "I can't even take you to dinner without you ending up hurt."

He felt her tense, felt the way her fingers dug into his scalp and then she pulled him closer as if realizing it all.

After a few moments, he pulled back, and when she tried to move with him, he wrapped an arm around her back and helped until she was in a sitting position.

His arms bracketed her legs when she gingerly swung them over the side, bare feet revealing freshly painted toenails, her pumps lost in the rubble.

She winced, hand moving towards her head and he knew she was in pain and would be for a few days.

He took her in, the blues of her eyes and the rise and fall of her chest. Her pale pink lips scrubbed free of the lipstick she'd been wearing earlier. Blonde hair hung over her shoulder, still matted and filled with debris.

The guilt swelled within his chest at the knowledge that she'd been hurt - almost killed - once again when she was with him. Only this time, it hadn't been as the Arrow, it had been as Oliver Queen.

He couldn't even keep her safe as Oliver Queen. He'd let his guard down for a night...let himself get comfortable and believe everything was okay.

Voices taunted him in his head - laughing at him for thinking he could ever have a normal life and the things he wanted. All he wanted to be was The Arrow - a hero to this city - and be with her. But how…

It was her hand closing over his that snapped him out of his thoughts and had him looking at her again. Her head was tilted and she had that sad, knowing look in her eyes. She didn't even have to ask where he'd been - she already knew.

She knew him so well. He was his best when he was with her. And he craved that - the feeling that he'd briefly experienced earlier that evening when he arrived at her door and saw her, gorgeous in her deep red dress. They'd laughed and talked and he'd been so happy for the first time in years.

Her fingers reached out and brushed against his jaw, turning his face back to hers.

There was so much he wanted to say - needed to tell her. But all he could make himself do in that moment was wrap his arms around her waist and pull her gently into the cradle of his arms. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck and they held on tight to each other.


End file.
